Smokescreen
by xErised
Summary: Draco felt his world flip upside down when he realised that he had turned Harry Potter blind. Complete. HP/DM


**Smokescreen by xErised**

Really, _really_ long one-shots written by me shouldn't really come as a surprise anymore, should they? Especially when ff net helps to add an extra _1.5K_ to the word count of my fics _every_ single time.

* * *

"Saint _Potter _and his _sodding_ eyes," Draco groused, glowering darkly at said boy sitting innocently at the Gryffindor table. The blond punctuated each snarled word with a vicious spear of his sausage, fuelled by a noxious cocktail of scorn and aggravation.

Pansy Parkinson looked down at the poor, mutilated slice of sausage on Draco's plate and sighed. It had been going on for two weeks already, the continuous quibbling and bellyaching that Draco spewed out on an almost daily basis when Potter had discovered some Muggle item called contact lenses. Delicately prying Draco's destructive fork from pale, agitated fingers, Pansy laid the offending cutlery down.

"I cannot believe that he actually deigned to stoop down and use things invented by _Muggles_! His eyes aren't supposed to be _that_ green! It's almost _unnatural_! Tell me, Pansy, does _that_ look right to you?!" Draco huffed grouchily and raised his hand, ready to point maliciously at Potter with- "Hey! Where did my _bloody_ fork go to?!"

Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy silently shared a mildly pained look amongst them, tactfully ignoring Draco with consummate skill that was perfected after years of practice. It was much easier to let him rant himself to oblivion, anyway.

"And look at those _girls _throwing themselves at him just because he's not wearing those clunky glasses! Do they not have any shame?! I bet he's enjoying the attention, that insufferable prat!"

This one-sided conversation continued in this thread for a while, accented by occasional grunts from Crabbe, soothing sounds from Pansy, and agreeable noises from Goyle as they finished their breakfast.

"Come on," Draco commanded as he gestured towards the three Gryffindors who had slung their bags over their shoulders and were about to exit the Great Hall. Following his lead, the rest of them pushed their plates away and sauntered out, close behind the heels of the trio.

"Hey Potter! Where'd your glasses go? Lost it, haven't you? Why don't you try looking for them at Weasley's hovel of a house? Reckon it won't take you long though, their dump's _pathetically_ tiny. Or if you want, you could get Granger to help you with it! The only good thing she's got is _brains_ anyway, and even _that's_ rather dubious," Draco said, spitting his words out like pebbles. Taking a step up towards Hermione, the blond made a huge show of eyeing her up and down.

"Too bad all the _pretty_ girls always made you stand out in a crowd," Draco whispered softly, enjoying his laconically barbed insult immensely. Hermione met Draco's gaze coolly and pressed her lips together in a somber line. A furious Ron inserted himself in between Hermione and Draco, his hands slicing through the air as though he was about to grab Draco at the throat-

But before Crabbe and Goyle could react, Hermione and Harry tore Ron away from the charged scene. As the Gryffindors hurried away, Pansy heard Hermione growl thunderously.

"He's not _worth_ it!"

Pansy ran her finger across her bottom lip thoughtfully. It seemed highly suspicious, because that vehement murmur seemed to be directed towards _Potter_, not Weasley… And was Pansy imagining things, or did a streak of _hurt_ flash across Potter's oh-so-lucid eyes?

Pansy was usually not a vindictive girl, but as she shot Potter's retreating back a withering glare, she felt that sharp sear of green-eyed monster rearing its head within her. Even before Potter got his eyes fixed, she had noticed Draco's attention wandering just a bit too much towards the Gryffindor, how confused grey eyes had lingered just a bit too long on Potter, how Draco tended to bring the brunette up just a bit more during casual conversations.

Gradually, Pansy found herself warming up to the idea of teaching Potter a... lesson on having the audacity to use Muggle devices in a clearly magical school. And she felt that same laceration of pure jealousy crash through her veins when she saw Draco eyeing the spot where Potter was standing just mere seconds ago. Shaking her head harshly, Pansy jolted back to the present.

"We've got a free period, let's go to the library," she started, her chin jutting with resolve.

"I thought your homework's all done?"

"You've been griping about Potter non-stop, Draco. Let's do something about it. I'm sure the library will have some... pertinent spells."

"_What_?! There's no way you'll find spells like that in the library, probably only in the Restricted Section-"

"I've gotten a signed note from Snape regarding some additional research about Potions," Pansy retorted confidently, rooting around in her bag. As if to articulate her point, she yanked out the note and tapped it with one fingernail in a calculative fashion, her eyes gleaming in combat. In reply, Draco waved his hand airily as though pronouncing the note irrelevant.

"Scared, Draco? I never thought you were that sort. Guess it's all talk and no action, huh? Never mind, it was just a suggestion anyway, I guess we'll have to get used to Potter flaunting his _unnatural_ green eyes about-" Pansy sighed, injecting just the right amount of flippancy in her voice.

"We'll see if we find something, then we'll work from there," the blond replied evenly, his evasive eyes refusing to meet Pansy's sharpened ones.

* * *

"Not _now,_ Draco!" Pansy hissed under her breath, jerking her head towards the teachers' table. "McGonagall's looking this way, do it when she's not!"

Draco let out a disgruntled _hmph_ and pursed his lips. He wiped his damp palms on his robes. Beads of premonition and strong doubt gathered stormily in his heart. Draco looked at the trio over at the Gryffindor table, where Potter was laughing heartily with Granger and Weasley.

It happened over a lightning-split second; Potter's eyes flickered towards the Slytherin table as swift as quicksilver, as though he _knew_ what Pansy and Draco were up to-

It had been a filmy, cloudy thought that hovered at the fringes of his mind; he wanted to make Potter _hurt_, but now that he was about to actually _curse_ Potter… _Maybe this isn't such a good idea_, Draco thought hesitantly, but Pansy squeezed his wrist at that exact same moment.

"Now, Draco, no one's watching!"

Spurred on by Pansy, Draco felt the childish resentment and old bitterness boiling and soaring rapidly to the surface, why everyone _adored_ Potter simply he was the chosen one, why he was so gifted in Quidditch even without any formal training, and Merlin, how… gorgeous his eyes were without those glasses, how Potter looked so ravishing even without _trying_-

_…_

_What?!_

"Stop dawdling! The spell's only meant to irritate his eyes for a day at the very most. It's just harmless fun," Pansy said, pinching Draco vehemently. Steeling himself, Draco flicked his wand from underneath the table and muttered the spell, his eyes focused fully on Potter. The both of them waited eagerly, unsure of what to expect, but _something_-

Nothing happened. No bloodcurdling screeching from Potter clawing at his eyes, no disturbance at the Gryffindor table at all, nothing. The clinking of cutlery, the chatter and muffled rise and ebb of conversation in the Great Hall continued placidly. Pansy exhaled noisily through her nose and stabbed at her chicken with her fork in disappointment. Draco ran his tongue over his desert-dry lips and raised his palms up in a show of nonchalance, confused at the mild relief that he felt.

"Guess that was bogus."

* * *

But Potter didn't appear at the breakfast table the next day.

Nor did the Gryffindor turn up for joint classes that morning. And Draco felt the sense of foreboding escalate to unbearable heights when McGonagall summoned them to the infirmary right after lunch.

The infirmary was empty except for McGonagall and the trio. Draco craned his neck slightly to sneak a glance at Potter, but his view was blocked by McGonagall. A puce-faced Ron was visibly vibrating with agitation, the muscles on his gangly arms trembling. When he saw Draco and Pansy, the Gryffindor rushed forward, a towering juggernaut of restrained fury, but was held back wisely by Hermione. Her eyes gestured meaningfully towards McGonagall, and Ron scowled unwillingly but stepped back. Hermione's lips were thin with her own dismay and rage, her curtain of hair swaying back and forth as she shook her head despondently at both Slytherins.

"What do you know about this?" McGonagall asked gravely, her mouth pulled together into a grim line as she advanced towards Draco and Pansy, who were drifting uncertainly at the entrance. The both of them exchanged an uneasy look, grains of anxiety building up at McGonagall's formidable demeanor.

"It's not- I mean, you don't know that it's us-" Pansy heroically started, but the words stuck fast in her throat. The professor's gimlet stare was chiseling away at their bravado, and the faces of the two young Slytherins began to crumple, assuming a pinched, strained look.

"Yes, that is what I am asking. Kindly tell us the truth, Miss Parkinson and Mr Malfoy."

"We didn't-" Draco gulped and looked up at McGonagall. There were irrevocable frown lines etched between her eyebrows and deep creases cut into her face.

Dear Salazar, even her _wrinkles_ were intimidating.

"Yeah okay, okay. It was us, alright? He wasn't supposed to wear those Muggle things in school anyway, so we just cast a cur- I mean, spell on him. It's not a big deal anyway, his eyes will probably be back to normal by tomorrow, and besides can't Madam Pomfrey fix it?" Draco said it all out in a rush, as if by saying it quickly it would mitigate the blame on them.

Controlling her fury with a patience that was enviable, McGonagall closed her eyes briefly and snapped them open. "I have a very good mind to send you both home. But that won't do at all, so a hundred and fifty points from Slytherin each for the both of you. Sadly, I will have to tell you that Madam Pomfrey cannot… _fix_ it, as you have put it so eloquently. She has little knowledge of anything Muggle. Normally I would allocate detention, but under these… circumstances, I will give you eleven days, nothing more, for you to find out a way to cure Potter. On top of that, you will need to help Potter catch up with his schoolwork. That should be enough punishment for you."

"But if Madam Pomfrey can't cure him, what makes you think that _we_ can?!" Pansy said shrilly.

"I'm sure the library would provide some answers. If you cannot put Potter the way he originally was, I'm afraid that I'll have to take further disciplinary action. And lastly… I think you owe Potter an apology." Her voice was firm and brooked no argument.

The air had condensed into a vacuum, thick with shame and humiliation as Draco and Pansy stared resolutely down at their shoes and mumbled something that might have started with the letter S. A whirlpool of differing emotions was spinning at the top of Draco's stomach and he couldn't help but blurt out unwittingly.

"It was only meant to irritate his eyes, it can't be that bad!"

"May I point out that that doesn't lessen the malicious intent behind the action, but with the application of these… contact lenses…" McGonagall trailed off solemnly and shifted to the side so that Draco and Pansy could now see Potter lying all huddled up in bed, his face chalk-white and taut with suppressed distress. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Draco's eyes hooked immediately on the snow-white bandage tucked around Potter's eyes _no, it can't be-_

And McGonagall's next words rang out ponderously in the room, echoing like a death knell, confirming Draco's worst suspicions-

"It means that you have turned Potter blind."

* * *

"Such a waste, wasn't it?! And we were so hoping that Malfoy would have gotten it instead!" Fred crooned garishly.

"Bet Crabbe's still plucking his feathers out now!" George chimed in.

Harry pricked his ears up immediately and catapulted upright in horror, every instinct on red alert. His fists tightened on the covers around his hips and he croaked out disbelievingly. "W-What did you do to him?"

"Specially developed Canary Cream! Feathers uniquely designed to stay on for a maximum of three hours-"

"-and exclusively tweaked so that every single feather is a shade of brown!"

"Crabbe looks like a lump of poo! Too bad that he got it though, I guess we'll have to come up with something completely different for Malfoy-" Ron started out thoughtfully, but it wasn't long before the three brothers dissolved into fits of raucous laughter.

"Guys, please stop it, I don't want you to do anything to them," Harry persuaded and was met with stony silence.

"What's the matter, mate? Don't you think he deserves it, after what he's done-"

Upon seeing the anguish on Harry's face, Hermione immediately stepped in and took charge. "Visiting hours are over! Harry needs his rest!" Briskly, she chivvied the three protesting Gryffindors out. Returning to Harry's side, Hermione picked up the bottle of eye drops and unscrewed the cap. Lifting it up to her nose, she sniffed it gingerly and gagged slightly at the foul fumes.

"Have you applied them yet? It reduces the risk of infection," Hermione said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, Ron's already done that," Harry replied, flashing Hermione a grateful smile.

Hermione quickly replaced the bottle back on the table. She rolled up her sleeves, slid a practiced finger down a dog-eared page of her textbook and flipped it open. "We do have a Charms assignment due two days from now, but I guess Flitwick'll let me write it out for you…" Hermione wrinkled her nose questioningly. "Here's what we covered at Transfiguration today…"

After ten minutes of droning on, Hermione sighed at an inattentive Harry and closed her book reluctantly. It was obvious that the brunette's mind was occupied somewhere else; he was so distracted that he failed to react even when Hermione stopped reading. Her eyes luminous with compassion, Hermione took hold of Harry's hand and shook it gently.

"You still fancy him, don't you? After all he's done to you?"

"I can't turn it off. It's not like some sort of switch. I don't even know why he did this to me!" Harry said shortly, thrusting a hand in the chaotic swirls of his black hair and tugging forlornly.

Pursing her lips in a show of mild disapproval, Hermione smoothed her hair back and tried to reason with Harry. "He's always been up to no good, and he won't be changing just because of this! Do you think he'll actually be bothered to help Ron and me find a counter-curse for you?"

"Hermione, let's drop the subject."

"Harry-"

"_Please_."

**

"_Here you go! I'm not sure which range you need, so I got a variety of contact lenses. One of them definitely has to work for you."_

_"Thanks, Hermione, but couldn't you have just gotten one pair and used magic to make them suitable?"_

_"It's not… advisable to use magic on Muggle lenses. Oh Harry, are you sure that this will work?"_

_"I… No, but if it'll make him pay more attention to me… And before you ask, I still like him. A lot."_

_"It'll go away soon-"_

_"Hermione, I've felt like… this for four months. It's not just going to **go away**, no matter how much I want it to. You haven't told Ron, have you? I mean, can you just imagine his reaction-"_

_"No, I haven't said anything. Here, let me help you with that-"_

**

He marched on swiftly and quietly, his mouth drawn into a thin line and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Grinding his teeth in preparation for the verbal joust ahead, the blond let his breath out in a chagrined hiss. Anger radiated off Draco like turbulent waves as he hurried towards his destination alone. Pushing open the doors soundlessly, Draco barged into the infirmary, his eyes instantly landing on Harry and Hermione.

"I doubt brown feathers go well with my hair, Potter. Hope you had fun getting your revenge? Or is it not enough?" Draco spat out, his eyes narrowing with animosity.

Harry's head immediately swiveled to Draco's direction. Hermione's shoulders were set rigid and tense, her spine stiffening instinctively. Getting to her feet, she began to storm towards Draco, readying words of confrontation on the tip of her tongue.

"Get out, Malfoy. Haven't you done enough?! You're not welcome here!" She hissed out in equally vehement tones. They locked horns for a moment, with Hermione impaling Draco with her potent glare and Draco displaying his patented expression of supremacy, resplendent in a supercilious sneer and slit eyes.

"Hermione, I'm hungry. Do you mind getting some food for me, please?" Harry piped up warily, attempting to diffuse the situation. The witch gave Draco one last dark scowl, before sighing disapprovingly at Harry and stomping out of the room.

"I didn't ask them to do the prank," Harry clarified, speaking in clipped, staccato sentences.

"And I believe you because…" Draco snorted and drummed his fingers on the side of his arm.

"Don't you think I have better things to do than lie to you?! Oh, I don't know, maybe worrying about the possibility of me being blind permanently?! If it makes you feel better, it's starting to hurt more and more, especially when I put those damn eye drops on _three_ times a day, it's like my eyes are burning and it's all because of _you_!" The words had ignited and were taking a life of their own, gut-wrenching fear simmering beneath the boiling anger, each syllable spiraling out of Harry's mouth uncontrollably. The Gryffindor's lips twisted into a bitter little parody of a smile and it felt as though his heart had been squashed by a giant fist.

But Harry's tirade was gaining momentum now, all of the bridled feelings for Draco, bottled up across the span of four months _it'll never happen because he'll never like me back but I just caught him staring at me during Potions just now, I can't wait to see him later for dinner- _had congealed into a sick feeling, puddling at the pit of Harry's churning stomach.

"You think it's fun?! This isn't just any childish antic! This isn't just like a skinned knee, it won't heal by itself! It's been three days and nothing's improving! Want a pat on the back, Malfoy? On a curse well done? Would you like to see your handiwork? _Would you_?!" His voice a mixture of hoarse and shrill, Harry snarled and ripped off the bandage around his eyes.

The sight in front of him wound itself around Draco had a coil, sucking him in like a vortex. It was as though someone had yanked him up by the arms and plunged him into an icy panic. The first raw, thudding wave of shock had dissipated to a slow, revolting feeling.

Harry's eyes were no longer the vivid, beautiful green that Draco had once fleetingly thought they were. They were now a shade of scarlet _basilisk eyes they call it- _and there was only a shadow of the clear whites of Harry's eyes, hidden by the overpowering hue of clotted crimson. Harry tossed the used bandage carelessly on the bed. There were tiny pinpricks of red occupying the space where the cloth had covered Harry's eyes. His insides curdling with shame, Draco realized that that was dried blood.

"I didn't, I mean-" stammered Draco. Words of skilful confrontation fading on his lips, the blond swallowed and took a step back, his conscience jabbing remorselessly at him like a barbed pointy stick.

"And I thought that I could- Oh, I was so _dumb_-" Harry berated himself and let out a truncated laugh, a cold, mirthless laugh that didn't suit him at all. Draco's heart, which had been hammering madly against his ribcage, gradually slowed down to a stuttering stillness.

The brunette sighed, a deep, long sigh that held a repository of emotion, something that Draco couldn't put his finger on. Harry started to cough, and his hand clumsily swung towards the small table beside his bed. Groping blindly for the jug of water that was positioned strategically beside his glass, Harry yelped when his wrist accidentally crashed into the handle of the large jug. Both items wobbled precariously before sadly plummeting down to the floor and exploding into smithereens.

Draco blinked in surprise and backed away as thin rivulets of water blossomed and bled their way across the floor. Dangerous shards of glass adorned the dark, cold tiles. Harry swore under his breath and fumbled for his wand. But he had pulled at the sheets just a bit too hard, and the wand landed forlornly on the ground with a soft clack. He felt completely wrong-footed at how vulnerable and useless Harry was-

An odd sensation was stirring in his bones, a new feeling that he had never felt before. Gradually, Draco realized the extent of the damage that he had done. Panic flared and roared fiercely in his stomach, and he was torn between advancing forward to help the other boy, or to retreat.

"Harry? What's happening?" Madam Pomfrey called out from her room nearby. Draco's eyes widened in delayed shock, but before Harry could dredge up a reply, the blond had turned noiselessly on his heel and fled, still shaken by the image of a helpless Harry that refused to be banished from his mind.

And then, as though someone had rapped him sharply on the head, Draco discovered that the foreign, smothering feeling that he felt just moments ago was _guilt_.

* * *

_"We've got to look for a cure for Potter. Let's go to the library after dinner."_

_"What?! Draco, you've got to be kidding. Why now?! You can't actually be scared of McGonagall, the old bat-"_

_"We put him in this mess, we have to get him out of it-"_

_"But Draco-"_

_"Shut up, Pansy! If it weren't for you and your stupid spur-of-the-moment ideas we wouldn't even have this problem right now! Let's just fix this and get it over and done with!"_

* * *

Draco closed the book triumphantly with a thump and laid it aside. He rolled and tossed his shoulders back to ease out the knots of tension. His body was tight from the hours spent in the uncomfortable chair in the infirmary, and Draco rotated his neck gently, trying to work out the kinks stuck there. With that, Draco lifted his arms high up in the air and stretched agilely like a panther, a pent-up moan spilling out from his lips inadvertently.

Harry was immediately engulfed in a full body blush when he heard Draco's groan. Fidgeting and hastily arranging the sheets around his thighs, the brunette nudged another textbook towards Draco.

"You're only done with this week's workload when you've read this bit," Harry reminded.

"Where's Granger and Weasley? They only drop by once in a while! You can't expect me to do all of the reading around here, Potter," Draco grumped petulantly and crossed his arms in a huff.

_They're not here because I want to spend time with you. Alone._

It had taken a lot of wheedling on Harry's part to persuade Hermione not to visit him every single day. Hermione had eventually given in reluctantly and tasked herself with the mission of scouring every book in the library to hunt down a solution to Harry's predicament. Ron was another tricky matter; the brunette had to paint a picture of a chastised and miserable Malfoy spending almost every evening with Harry to catch up on the school syllabus before Ron relented.

"You're not answering, Potter. One might think that you actually _enjoy_ my company if this goes on for long enough," Draco sniffed and arched an eyebrow in graceful query.

"Maybe I do, Malfoy. Have you ever thought that it could because of your dazzling wit, your easy charm, or possibly your spectacular personality?" Harry shot back lightly, tipping his head to one side and resting his chin speculatively on his palm. A small smile that hinted at inner naughtiness played on his lips, and Draco made a non-committal sound and shrugged his shoulders uncertainly.

For the past week, Draco had been dropping by regularly to recite a few chapters from Harry's books in order for Harry to keep up with schoolwork. Some nights, when Draco was done, he might whip out a few extra library books and quietly skim through them, the acute windmills of his mind whirring frantically as he desperately sought for a cure for Harry.

Initially, the blond had armed himself with an intensive volley of insults at his fingertips to employ, just in case he found himself at the receiving end of a sparring match. But the Gryffindor had been unusually calm whenever the Slytherin dropped by. And bit by bit, with each passing day, Draco began to let his guard down, and he began to slowly notice that Harry was no longer the clumsily shy and hopelessly blushing boy that he had once been. Harry had now developed a strong character and an enviable sense of humor, something that Draco found rather… attractive.

The brunette could let loose a string of funny one-liners that made Draco guffaw in an extremely unglamorous manner, and both boys had settled into a surprising companionship, complete with the occasional light banter. The atmosphere had changed into one that was a little more relaxed and light, a little bit less reined in. And sometimes, Draco realized that the cobweb fragility of their… friendship had experimentally wandered into the realms of light flirting.

Just like now.

Draco didn't know how to react because he wasn't really sure if Harry actually meant it _but I know you don't mind, do you, hmmmm-_ or not. At rare moments like this, the blond would feel his cheeks turn hot, and he would try his utmost best to suppress the shudder of longing that welled up in him. Giving himself a short and intense mental shake, Draco wriggled slightly in his creaky chair.

Harry ran his tongue nervously behind his lips as he adjusted the wrapping around his eyes, over-analysing Draco's unenthusiastic reply with dismay. Maybe he had gone too far with the teasing. The mood had dissolved into bits and pieces of awkwardness, and Harry swallowed, thinking of ways to salvage the situation.

"It can't be too comfortable in that chair, can it?" The brunette ventured tentatively as his hands drifted towards the general vicinity of the books splayed on the bed. His fingers stumbled gawkily over the spines of the tomes while Harry attempted to stack them up as neatly as he could.

"I don't have anywhere else to sit," Draco pointed out, standing up to help Harry. Pale fingers accidentally brushed over a tanned wrist, and the blond felt his skin spark with pleasurable delight at that sudden and unexpected contact. Draco blinked rapidly and quickly withdrew, turning towards the unused bed beside him and dumping the books there.

He stood there for a while, his back towards Harry. Draco licked his lips and tried to marshal his thoughts to the best of his ability. He didn't think it was possible, or rather, _healthy _for his heart to beat this fast. Taking a deep, controlled breath, Draco pivoted and sank back down on the hard and unwieldy chair.

Harry scrunched his eyes tighter and sniffed the air slightly, reveling secretly in Draco's vanilla scent. He could piece the image of the blond together in his mind; long legs spread apart and pale fingers drumming impatiently on his thigh, those ruby-red, plump lips probably pulled into a predictable scowl.

In the beginning, Harry had been horrified to find out the fragile slivers of attraction that he felt towards Draco. He had chalked it up to stress or whatever flimsy reasons that he could grab hold of, but gradually the brunette found himself reluctantly enthralled by Draco's rapier wit, how Draco sharpened his tongue in front of the mirror every morning, gathering merciless blizzards of repartee at his fingertips and how insulting people came to him as easily as breathing. Day by cautious day, Harry found Draco's cockiness exciting and infuriating all at the same time.

Recently Harry realized that his dreams were unfolding and caroming into dangerously intimate territory. The texture and silky slither of skin against skin, the feeling of creamy, supple flesh underneath his own fingertips, coy pink tongues roaming everywhere on heated skin, the addictive taboo _fingers on lips- _of it all-

It was more than enough to drive a hormonal Harry mad.

On an optimistic note, Harry discovered that this whole incident was probably a blessing in disguise, and he could feel a determination to win Draco over flaring up within him, because if he didn't make use of this situation, he would never get another chance like this again.

Steeling himself for possible rejection, Harry edged towards the other side of the bed and patted the empty side with his palm.

"Come on. It's much nicer here," he offered genially.

Draco couldn't believe his ears. He froze and stared unabashedly at the other boy before squawking in a demented fashion, tinges of shocked pink coloring his milky white cheeks. "You can't be serious. I'm not getting into _bed _with you!"

"Suit yourself. It's just a shame that you're going to all this effort to help me, and you end up with a sore back and who knows, maybe you might even stop growing altogether," Harry warned cheerfully. A sharp intake of breath from Draco told Harry that he had taken the bait, and the brunette's face expanded into a sly, slow Cheshire grin as he lounged languidly on his fluffy marshmallow of a pillow, his hands interlinked behind the back of his head.

Draco drew himself up to his full height and bristled. His height was actually a rather… _ahem…_ touchy subject. Almost of the boys in his year had a sudden growth spurt during the holidays, and Draco hated to admit it, but it was rather true that Draco found himself a bit too short for his liking. Even Potter, who used to be a scrawny bit of a boy in year one, had seemed to develop in build and stature.

"It won't make a difference anyway," Draco declared haughtily, but Harry could hear a faint indication of uncertainty in his voice.

Using his toes to flip back the covers invitingly, Harry shifted further away, as though he was welcoming Draco to bed. "I'm not an expert on it, but you spend most of the day hunched over a table writing and eating and everything, so I doubt that leaves you much room, doesn't it? I would have thought your bones would need ample space to grow," Harry said casually. He knew he was grasping at straws here, but he was appealing _I want you closer, so much closer- _to a side of Draco that everyone knew: his vanity.

The blond blinked rapidly and fingered the hem of his shirt tetchily. He gave his surroundings a sideways look. The infirmary was completely empty, and only two other beds remained. The bed behind him had Harry's textbooks sprawled slovenly on it, and the other one had a broken leg. Draco glared at the stiff and callous chair and gave it a hard kick. He debated for a few seconds before sighing resignedly and climbing carefully into bed with Harry.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Potter," Draco muttered and he floundered for a bit when the heat from Harry's body, imprinted on the bed from the long hours of lying in it, suddenly transferred itself to Draco.

"Merlin, Potter, you're _hot_!" Draco yelped while he jumped out of bed and thumped it vigorously with his fist before settling back down.

"Thanks," Harry replied without missing a beat and cast a sunny, impish grin towards the general direction of Draco.

"No! I didn't mean it in _that_ way, oh never mind-" The blond cut himself off and moved away slightly. His body was like a spring tightly coiled up, his arms as taut as piano wires, his toes forced agitatedly apart in his socks. Harry was the complete opposite; the very picture of relaxation. The delicious warmth coming from the Harry's body was amplified like a sunburst, gliding like caramelized sugar all over Draco, coiling around him like the graceful curve of a seahorse's tail. The brunette gave out a lazy yawn and turned his body towards Draco, his finger toying idly with a frayed end of his bandage.

"I can almost smell your discomfort," Harry tilted his head and ran his tongue serenely over the bottom of his top teeth. Draco gawked at the strawberry pink of Harry's tongue, gulped, and quickly averted his gaze. Draco clicked his fingers together, an irritating habit that he did whenever he was nervous. But he couldn't help it; the harder he tried not to blush, the hotter he felt his cheeks grow.

The Gryffindor hesitated for a moment before letting his fingers slide from the silky covers up to Draco's hand. Draco squeaked when he felt that same spark crackle speedily through his skin and burrow swiftly all the way down, sending his nerve endings into endless bouts of mass hysteria. He jerked his hand away an inch, but didn't completely remove his hand. Harry paused for a while and advanced up higher, sliding the tips of his fingers under Draco's fingernails, feeling the rounded domes of Draco's fleshy fingertips.

Harry smiled when he heard Draco let out something that sounded like a moan and a sigh at the same time. Taking this as a green light, the brunette explored further, ghosting down the lines of Draco's fingers. He could almost see it, his own knuckles and hands _dream come true, oh yes-_ travelling and brushing experimentally with Draco's wrists and arms softly, every touch as tender and fleeting as a whispered sweet nothing in the deep of the night-

Draco hissed as he melted gently into the bed, _Potter_'s delicate and fleeting caresses turning his bones into a useless juice. His narrow, formal features relaxed and he writhed slightly, trying to suppress the thoroughly inappropriate _sexy _feelings blooming up within him, _oh God, Potter do **that** again_- The blond's hand curled slightly around Harry's palm while the brunette moved closer and stroked the web of skin between Draco's thumb and index finger meditatively.

The Slytherin swallowed apprehensively when he felt another _zzzap_ of electricity shoot up his arm as fast as lightning. And it was then that he realized that he didn't need any _zzzappy_ things running amok between him and_ Potter_, of all people, _thank_ you very much. Snapping his eyes open, Draco urgently pulled his hand away before he could hesitate, and he was completely flabbergasted when he realized how close Harry had gotten to him during the few minutes.

Draco nudged Harry unceremoniously away with his foot. Harry pouted like a little duck, but relented and shifted.

"Time for your eye drops," Draco quickly pointed out and was about to haul himself into a sitting position when Harry stopped him.

"Madam Pomfrey says my eyes are getting a bit better. I only need to put those things only in the morning and the afternoon now," Harry explained and beamed, his teeth seeming a bit whiter amongst the background of his bronzed skin.

"That's good. Do you- do you think it'll go away by itself?" Draco said hopefully and flashed the merest shadow of a smile, but his face fell when Harry shrugged his shoulders. Disappointment settled on both of their shoulders, the morose silence interrupted by punctuations of Harry's cough. The blond galvanized himself into action and swiftly poured some water for him.

"It'll be fine. Hermione's practically living at the library. She'll find something soon." Harry paused for a while, cleared his throat a bit timidly, lowered his head slightly and murmured, "Will you… will you smile for me when I've recovered?"

"I'm trawling through books for you too, you know," Draco said indignantly. "Hang on, how did you know that I… smiled just now?" He shot Harry a suspicious look.

Harry shrugged his shoulders mysteriously, daubs of rosebud pink evident in his cheeks. The brunette flashed Draco a cryptic half-grin, his grip tightening imperceptibly on his mug before he answered shyly.

"It's nothing, but I… well, I can _hear_ you smile."

* * *

"I can't believe that you're so willing to stay up late for him," Pansy muttered under her breath while she gathered up her stationery and reams of parchment scattered across the table in the Slytherin common room.

"It's in this book, I can feel it," Draco licked his forefinger and riffled quickly through the pages. His red-rimmed eyes zipped and scoured each sentence urgently, a long finger trailing swiftly down heady paragraphs.

"Have it your way," Pansy sighed. She cast a forlorn glance at the teetering tower of Draco's own batch of thick tomes and then looked down at the handful of books laden in her arms. Resisting the urge to fold her arms across her chest, she quietly trudged up the stairs to her dorms.

Draco rested his chin on the edge of his palm and flipped lethargically at the pages. Dust motes dispersed from the pages, and he sneezed. The whole affair had rankled like an itch beneath his skin, wafting at the back of his mind, refusing to let him go. He had tried to blot out the incident, telling himself that he was actually doing enough; frequent visits to Potter and spending extra time in the library. And it didn't help that McGonagall was practically breathing down his neck.

Draco looked out the windows. The moon hung full and low in the sky, rimmed by dark, pregnant clouds. Nearby trees swayed and rustled in the cold wind that blew across the landscape. The branches and twigs were skeletal and ominous, pointing like accusing fingers at Draco.

Squaring his shoulders, Draco whisked his attention back to the task on hand. He stayed like that for half an hour, diligently skimming through cursive text and yellowed, wrinkled pages. A glass of orange juice gone warm nestled patiently between two stacks of books, helping to keep the coaxing melodies of sleep at bay.

And then he found it.

The spell was bundled between two sections of concentrated words. Draco wasn't sure whether it really was the counter-curse, but as he recalled the original curse that sent Potter to the infirmary, he felt an emerging sense of tentative hope descend onto him. Draco had already tried at least three spells to reverse Potter's condition, but none of them had worked, and who knows how many Granger had tried.

_Let's hope this works then_, Draco thought. Scrawling the spell down on a stray piece of parchment and stowing his wand safely in his pocket, the blond hurried out of the dungeons and made his way towards the infirmary.

Potter was slumbering peacefully in bed, the covers pooled around his ankles. His pair of glasses laid sadly on the neighbouring table, unworn and unloved. Draco bit the inside of his lip hesitantly and whispered the newly uncovered spell. He didn't expect anything to happen; it would probably take time, just like the curse itself.

Moving silently towards the other boy, Draco lifted and pulled the covers up to Potter's chin. The blond's gaze drifted around Potter's face for a while, and Draco had to intertwine his fingers tightly behind his back to suppress the urge to stroke Potter's feathery eyelashes. They would probably go back to normal again, sniping and jeering at each other, and what was wrong with that?

_He was **Potter** after all._

* * *

The witch stood right in front of their path, her eyes blazing with ferocity and her arms held akimbo. A cool night wind blew in through the windows of the infirmary, making Hermione's bushy hair flutter in the air, the finishing touch to a perfect portrait of an avenging angel.

Honestly, this was getting rather out of hand. Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, sighed theatrically and waved a hand dismissively, hoping to provide a split second distraction. Grey eyes darted through the doors of the infirmary, and Draco could see a quavering Harry, his hands clutched fervently onto the blankets, eyeing the scene with something akin to dawning dread.

But Hermione's astute brown eyes didn't miss a thing. "Ahah! I saw it! You_ looked_ at Harry!" Hermione declared proudly, pointing a triumphant finger at a rather flustered Draco. She took a step closer and scrutinized the blond, shaking her shroud of hair reprovingly.

"I've been waiting to see whether the both of you would actually do anything about it, but since tonight's the last night that Madam Pomfrey's keeping Harry in observation, I reckon not. Don't think that I don't know what's going on with you, Malfoy. Every night for the past two days you've been taking this long way back to the Slytherin dorms, and oh, surprise, surprise, this route passes by the infirmary!"

"Well, what Granger says is true, I've always wondered- _ouch_!" Crabbe squeaked in pain as Draco kicked him very efficiently at the ankle.

Emboldened by Crabbe's comment, Hermione crossed his arms and smirked at Draco, an expression which sat quite comfortably on her face, Draco noted, cringing inwardly. "Come on, I'm bringing you in, and the both of you are going to sort this out properly!" Hermione announced victoriously and advanced towards Draco.

"Oh no, you're not going to manhandle me, Granger! I'm not going to go anywhere if I don't want to!" The Slytherin puffed up importantly and let out a diabolical cackle. Jerking his chin towards his two lackeys, Draco stepped back and matched Hermione's smirk perfectly when Hermione surveyed the two beefy Slytherins warily.

"W-What? You can't expect us to _hit_ her! Mum always told me _never_ to hit girls!" Goyle protested, but trailed off sheepishly when the authoritative expression on Draco's face mutated into one of looming shock.

"Crabbe. You too?!" Draco barked, his usually well-modulated voice spiraling uncontrollably into a high pitched squawk. Crabbe fastidiously avoided Draco's fiery glare and gazed intently into the far distance, while Goyle's carefully schooled expression of calmness seemed to slip a bit.

"Well, it's a surprise that Crabbe and Goyle appear to be so much more gentlemanly than you, Malfoy!" Hermione quipped smugly and gazed at Crabbe and Goyle with renewed interest. His usually impeccable veneer of confidence unexpectedly chipped, Draco cast around frantically in his mind for a suitably acerbic comeback.

"G-Gosh, n-no one's ever called us gentlemen before!" Crabbe looked down at his shoes and stammered rather humbly, his hands clasped modestly behind his back. Goyle nodded his head vigorously beside Crabbe, and the both of them ogled in wonder at Hermione, who raised her eyebrows in surprise and directed a kind smile towards the both of them.

And to Draco's utmost horror, Crabbe and Goyle, his faithful comrades, fierce defenders against anyone who dared oppose Draco, his stalwart bodyguards ever since the tender age of eleven, _blushed_.

If there had been a brick wall handy, Draco would have very promptly and very happily bashed his head against it.

Draco had to fight down the urge to tear his hair out by the roots with his bare hands when Crabbe and Goyle nudged him rather fearfully towards the open doors of the infirmary. Hermione bowed deeply and flicked her wrist sarcastically. Throwing a dirty look at Hermione, Draco held his head up high and looked at Harry imperiously under his eyelids, determined to salvage whatever remains of dignity that he still had.

The brunette was no longer wearing the bandage. Completely thrown off-kilter at the vivid emerald of Harry's eyes, Draco quickly transferred his gaze to the bed beside Harry. Draco twitched a bit nervously as Hermione sighed resignedly and threw her hands up in despair. She crossed over to Harry's bed and gathered up rolls of parchment, a pair of quills and a handful of books and headed towards the exit.

"No funny comments from you, Malfoy, if not I swear to Merlin I'll bop you over the head with my copy of Spellman's Syllabary. And you too, Harry!" Hermione said sharply, effectively wiping the reluctant grin glimmering at her friend's lips.

Harry seemed to shrink a bit into his pillow while he mustered up a watery smile.

"I've almost had it up to _here_ with your moping over him! Tell him, you hear!" the witch grumbled not unkindly and raised her book in mild intimidation. Concentrating her potent gaze on the Slytherins who stood as still as statues, Hermione let her breath out from in between her teeth.

"Come on! Don't you know that the both of you are interrupting A Very Important Moment?!" Hermione exclaimed loudly, gesturing towards Crabbe and Goyle knowingly with her eyes. A controlled smile betrayed the harshness of her tone. With that, she swept out of the room majestically, her arms weighed down with various studying paraphernalia. Crabbe and Goyle looked feebly at Draco as though asking for permission. The blond shot them a dramatically wounded glare before turning his back on them and walking unsteadily towards an amused Harry.

A quill had rolled out of Hermione's grasp and fallen to the floor, but she hadn't noticed. Crabbe stooped down and picked it up in his thick sausage-like fingers. Both boys shared a dubious glance before hurrying out of the room. Harry and Draco heard their heavy footsteps thumping on the floor, echoing Hermione's softer and faster footfalls.

"Hey, Granger… _Granger_! Do you… do you need us to walk you back to the Gryffindor Tower?"

Draco winced and carded his fingers through his hair, something that he rarely did. Harry sat cross-legged in bed and wriggled a little closer towards Draco. The mood was restrained and uncomfortable, as though they were each waiting for the other to say something. Finally, Draco broke the discomposed silence.

"Look, it's all over now. It was just an unpleasant episode that we'll get over soon. It won't take long before we'll be back to normal, snapping and sneering at each other. I'll see you at the Great Hall tomorrow for breakfast, Potter." As the words tumbled a bit too fast out of Draco's mouth, the blond mentally kicked himself at how stilted and forced his voice sounded. He had already bid Harry goodbye, but why was he _not bloody moving?!_

There was this… _thing_ that hung unfulfilled and disgruntled in between them in the air, unseen and unspoken, but still tangible and powerful. Draco's mind was running independently away from his body; he was imagining himself already back in the Slytherin dorms, desperately away from the face of temptation that was Harry Potter. But Draco was still physically _there_, maintaining the well-preserved façade of sheer blasé that belied the loaded swirl of emotions that rumbled and jangled gleefully under the calm surface. And a thought _I know what he's going to say, I think I feel the same way too, oh no-_ solid and flinty, suddenly began to take shape.

And his _stupid_ heart of course, thumping like a herd of stomping wildebeest.

"No, wait! Please don't go! I-" Harry started pleadingly, but stopped short while he grasped blindly at the words that refused to form. His knuckles clenched hard on the hem of his shirt, Harry desperately tried to render himself oblivious to the flock of butterflies in his stomach so big that they could have been screeching, cawing seagulls. He had to tell Draco now, this was the perfect opportunity, it was just three simple words that felt oh so clunky and hefty under his tongue, bloody _hell_, Hermione didn't tell him how difficult this was; his face was so hot and red that he might just _explode-_

"I like you, Malfoy," Harry squeaked out in a very small voice, and he immediately had to resist the urge to dive underneath the bedcovers and hide there until morning came. His voice had gone all unnatural and high, as though he had swallowed a furtive gulp of helium. Harry had wanted it to come out blissfully sophisticated and heart-breakingly suave, but as usual, he had performed it with the grace of a _bloody_ hippo.

Draco made a faint choking sound and wilted a bit. "As in, like like me, or like _like_ me?" Draco said a bit too loudly. His pulse was accelerating in a speed that he never thought was possible, the backs of his knees trembling.

Harry puffed an overgrown tuft of hair away from his forehead. "I have a crush on you," he clarified slowly and without a doubt, hating how juvenile and immature it sounded.

"No, it's impossible! You're just saying that because you... you've had an overdose of me for the past few days, it won't last, I'm sure-" Draco mumbled, his flawless Malfoy poise slipping as he disintegrated into fragments of bewildered inelegance. He shook his head, as though by saying it out loud it would come true-

"I wore the contacts specially for _you_! I got Hermione to get it for me during the holidays, I wanted you to look past the spectacled dork and... sit up and take a bit of notice of me, _Harry_, not _Potter!_ I've liked you for months, Draco. I can't stop thinking about you, I dream about you all the time, I'm mad about you! I don't want us to be horrible to each other anymore, I... really like you," Harry blurted out, the words spilling all over the place shoddily. He had to make Draco understand that this was important to him, that this wasn't some sort of last-minute infatuation that would wear off in a few weeks. Daring to lift his gaze, Harry took in Draco's panic-stricken face _this isn't going right, this isn't going right at all-_

The color drained out from Harry's face and he stared resolutely at his clasped hands, his stomach feeling like he had just swallowed a dead weight. Pure, undiluted humiliation spat and boiled in his blood, Harry's cheeks were mottled bright red with shame. Draco's lips were sealed tightly, but the alarm and trepidation reflected in those grey eyes told Harry all he needed to know.

His face crumpling into a rueful, self-deprecating scowl, Harry forced himself to pretend that this had never happened; that he had did not just absurdly confess his misplaced affections to a shell-shocked Draco, who was _clearly _not interested. Turning his back towards Draco, Harry scrunched his eyes shut firmly and hated the way his intestines squirmed and wriggled as though they were live snakes.

And then his heart was breaking, a horrible, terrible, grinding pain that struck him right at the core when he heard Draco's footsteps, slow and reluctant at first, slowly gain momentum and stagger their way cheerlessly out.

**

He walked on fast, edgy and impatient, desperate to leave because he knew that if he stopped he would very likely race back and no, he _simply _couldn't do that. Draco tried to shake himself out of the woolly daze that enveloped him like an impenetrable fortress, and like an engine gradually losing steam, the blond slowed down, but continued walking ahead.

He would be lying if he said that Harry's bombshell was like a bolt out of the blue to him; the mutual attraction underlying their volatile relationship, however indistinct and subdued was there, a feeling that Draco couldn't neglect no matter how much he wanted to-

Draco was helplessly sucked into the confusing quicksand of emotions that remorselessly assaulted him, and he had to stop moving altogether and stand stock-still right in the middle of the corridor. Conflicting sensations were jostling for position in him. Disbelief, stupefaction, astonishment, and maybe just a teeny bit of elation, _hmmmm_-

He could imagine Harry now, all huddled up like an injured puppy in bed, a seething mass of teenage angst and hormones, a pathetic splat of emotional jelly, and the only thing Draco wanted to do was to gather the other boy up in his arms and-

His thought process was happily galloping into fatal territory; how Draco's eyes had swiveled a bit too much towards Harry during meals even before the whole incident started, the uncharacteristic… companionship that the both of them had forged during the past few weeks, the way Harry would wrinkle his nose questioningly whenever Draco read out a paragraph that Harry didn't understand, the way Draco's heart would do a traitorous little wiggle whenever Harry smiled joyously at Draco, as though beautiful, brilliant summer had been captured and kept burning bright in that simple, easy smile-

_It's been there all along._

He couldn't shake off this compulsion… this passionate, impulsive tension that lingered between them like a third shadow, a two-way mirror that twinkled with unparalleled attraction and heated undertones of lust. Harry exuded a pull, a magnetic, tantalizing captivation that Draco couldn't evade no matter how hard he tried, an alluring quality that Draco was hopelessly drawn to, something ambiguously dangerous that seemed to have its own steady pulse, its own stubborn heartbeat-

And before he knew what he was doing, Draco was wheeling around and breaking into a run.

**

"You're a fool, Potter!"

Bursting into the room barely ten minutes after he had left, Draco stormed back towards Harry. The brunette's face, which was so lovely and open just a while ago, was now closed with hurt. His features sagging with sadness, Harry glared weakly at Draco before flopping the sheets over his head. The blond's gunmetal-grey eyes were like a foggy, dense sheet of sky, unsure of whether it would bring sunshine or rain-

Draco's fine-boned face softened as his confrontational attitude cracked and fell away. He shifted from foot to foot, his arms crossed protectively across his stomach. His head was stuffed to the brim with contradictory thoughts, ranging from the voice of reason, which had picked up a giant megaphone and was bawling madly at him, down to the downright _romantic_ scenes that his heart refused to relinquish-

The Slytherin shut his eyes, swallowed and spoke, his fingers nervously pleating the edge of his robes between his fingers. "What I meant was that… you didn't need any Muggle contraptions to get my attention," Draco finished, the edge in his voice beginning to subside.

Harry blinked and peeped out from under the blankets, eyes wide open in fearful hope at Draco's sudden rush of transparency. His heart, to his utmost surprise, was lolloping in a rabbity fashion.

"What if I… you know… liked you a _bit_ too?" Draco mumbled, those words coming out in a laryngitic croak, disbelief and a sense of surrealism tracing every vein. He stared at his shoes, feeling the color mounting rapidly in his cheeks.

Bloody hell, that rabbit was running a _sodding_ marathon now.

Like a little lost boy that suddenly remembered his lines at a school play, Harry licked his lips and bit down on them hard, trying not to burst into fits of overjoyed giggles.

Oh no, that won't do at _all_.

Controlling his voice efficiently so that it came out in a cadence of solemnity, Harry replied, the last slivers of hurt thoroughly wiped from his face.

"I think that would be absolutely perfect, Draco," Harry whispered back, his eyes dancing merrily and mischievously, his smile completely bewitching and enchanting. Draco gasped, his own heart jerking awake into a slow, promising canter.

They gazed at each other stupidly for a while, dopey grins splattered all over on their faces.

Harry reluctantly broke the sizzling eye contact and tilted his head towards the bed. Draco chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his lower lip. His resistance melting like a glacier in the sun, the other boy hurried over and crawled under the covers beside Harry.

It was like being tucked cozily into a toasty warm bed prepared specially for him during a frosty morning.

The brunette couldn't erase the silly smile that spread messily over his lips and he pulled Draco closer, experiencing an exquisite frisson of anticipation slice through his body. He felt unexplored, sultry flesh underneath his fingertips, and Harry growled, a hungry, downright filthy snarl. He could smell the sweet aroma of success now, his flashing green eyes kindling like a hunter that had finally claimed his prize.

"Mine," Harry declared possessively, his hand fixed proprietarily on the curve of Draco's hip. The blond, in return, felt shock accumulate in his chest one grain at a time, but yet, it ebbed away as fast as it formed. Draco laid his own palm on top of Harry's wrist and gently dislodged his grip.

"Bite your tongue, Potter. Not _that_ fast," Draco murmured matter-of-factly, his full-lashed eyelids dipping downwards daintily, his lips twitching up into a mild grin.

Harry beamed back, his own eyelashes lowered suggestively over his intense green eyes. He was drinking in his shimmering blond dream, complete with defiant grey eyes. Draco's provocative profile softened fractionally as he dropped his gaze and breathed in the sharp scent of Harry, something male and spicy. It made his head go a bit woozy and the blond blinked rapidly.

"Why, Potter? Why me?"

"Just you, Draco. _Everything_ about you," The look of naked adoration that Harry bestowed upon Draco was more than enough. Each word came out in a blushing whisper in Harry's voice, that magical voice which was practically _designed_ to murmur only sweet nothings-

And then Harry was moving closer, their bodies pressed thrillingly against each other, and then, _oh Salazar, he's going to kiss me-_ Draco warily closed an eye, almost scared to look, but he didn't pull away.

It was the briefest kiss in the world, just a chaste and simple touch of the lips, over practically before it had begun, yet affecting them more deeply than either would ever admit. With that, Harry drew back happily and wrapped an arm snugly around Draco's waist.

"You promised me a smile. Or have you forgotten?" Harry grinned and chuckled, a low and sensual sound. Piece by reluctant piece, Draco felt his heart melting like heated chocolate at the tender and lovely expression on Harry's face. Riddled by incongruous shyness under Harry's penetrative gaze, Draco's lips suddenly split open without warning, and Draco smiled, a sunny, scorching smile that made him feel like he had just swallowed a banana sideways.

"I know it won't be easy, but maybe you should start by thinking me as _Harry_. Do you think you could… do that?" The Gryffindor requested gently, dropping a demure kiss on Draco's forehead.

Draco nodded slowly, tightening his hold on Harry's broad shoulders. "Are your eyes fine now?"

"Well, it depends. Do I get to grab your arse?" Harry riposted cheekily, his tongue held playfully between his teeth. Audacious jade eyes lit up like twin beacons as Harry felt a familiar yoyo of lust twang loose in his chest.

"You're such a _troll_, Pott- _Harry_," Draco griped good-naturedly, quashing down the mild embarrassment jetting through his blood. The ferocious blush that he so heroically tried to keep at bay was rampaging out of control now, spreading like a syrupy virus all over his neck, his cheeks, worming itself all the way down to his heart-

Merlin, this would take some getting used to.

"Do you still want me to continue wearing the contacts?"

Supporting his weight with his elbow, Draco reached up and retrieved Harry's glasses. He snapped them open and laid them meticulously on the bridge of Harry's nose. Sure, they weren't the most stylish or polished pair, but-

Draco took in Harry's distinguishing black tangled curls, and he remembered how Harry would always slip his fingertips under his spectacles and rub the sides of his eyes whenever he was confronted with a difficult question during classes, and he also remembered how Harry would push those glasses endearingly up his nose whenever they slipped, and then Draco knew that these were traits, unique habits that made Harry so… _Harry_-

The blond shook his head confidently, tracing the black rim of Harry's glasses with a pale finger. Hurtling forward, Draco gave his spectacles a flirtatious little lick before planting a delicate kiss on the other boy's cheekbone. He whispered a sentence, nothing but a few tastefully joined words, but it made Harry's heart glow like hot coals, each syllable circling around his ears and sounding like a perfect symphony-

"Keep the glasses, simply because… you're _perfect_ just the way you are."

* * *

**/fin**

With all honesty, I regret to inform you that this would be my last one-shot for a long while, simply because…

I'm starting a new fanfiction, which has been planned out to have roughly 12ish chapters. It's HP/DM of course, and the very first chapter will probably be uploaded in early to mid January since I've still got a few issues about the plotline to work out.

If you've always been a reader of all of my pieces, or simply someone new that has taken a recent liking to my stories, please do keep an eye out for my next fic.

I promise it won't disappoint. (:


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